Powerful
by Andi88
Summary: Gold said that Emma is powerful. No one knew just how powerful until Tamara does the unthinkable. Rated for language, slightly graphic violence and angst. Not my usual fluff, I know, but there are definite family feels. Fret not!
1. Chapter 1

**BIG disclaimer here, guys! Please read!**

**For those following Like No One's Watching (love ya!) Don't worry, this OS hasn't disrupted anything! Still working on "The Ball."**

**This fic came to me in the middle of the night when I had one of those weird half-awake dreams (know what I'm talking about?) while listening to Dark Magic from the Beautiful Creatures Soundtrack. (Which, I could go on and on about the parallels between that an OUAT.) And it wouldn't leave my brain, so I decided to just type it out. I had no intention of publishing it, but it was no use just leaving it on my computer, so I decided to throw it on out there. **

**PLEASE NOTE: The story starts off in a forest in Neverland, going off the spoilers for next season. That's where the spoilers end though, so fear not. I realize the beginning makes little sense because I don't explain why Tamara is chasing them, where Greg is, or what "Tamara did." I tried to come up with all of that, but just couldn't, and it isn't part of what I was trying to get across here, so I'm leaving the how-they-ended-up-in-this-situation to your imagination. **

**So take this with a grain of salt, if you hate it, fine. If I get no reviews, I won't mind. And keep in mind that this is angstier than anything I've ever written, and BEFORE YOU FLAY ME finish reading it. Just saying. ;)**

**Listen to Dark Magic on YouTube if you want the accompaniment to this, I think it makes it cool. :)**

**I own nothing. But then who ever thought I did?**

* * *

"Told you I'd find you," Tamara smirked, strutting calmly into the forest clearing.

Emma glared, clenching her fists. She was really getting sick of this bitch. She glanced behind her at Mary Margaret and Neal, silently wondering how long it took for David and Hook to scout ahead, and relieved that Henry was safe with Regina. "You can forget it, Tamara. It's three against one and you don't have your stupid magic Taser anymore."

"Who said I need it?" she said in that superior, mocking voice that was even more irritating from her than it was from Regina.

"Please, Tamara, just give this up," Neal pleaded. Emma felt just a flash of sympathy for him. He really had thought she loved him. But that sympathy was quickly smashed by frustration that he'd so easily fallen into her trap. "Stop this before someone else gets hurt."

Tamara pretended to pout, mocking him with her eyes. "Oh, poor Neal, do you think I'm going to beg you for forgiveness? Are you hoping I'll run back into your arms?"

Emma watched as Neal's eyes darkened, and she thought maybe at last, he'd given up hope for this witch. "No," he said lowly. "I could never forgive you for what you tried to do. But if you keep this up you're going to end up dead."

She rolled her eyes. "Not if I kill you all first."

Emma's hands shot out in front of her, prepared to blast her back, pulverize her, and hoping the ability to do so would actually kick in. It wasn't exactly reliable. "Just try, bitch."

"Emma…" Mary Margaret was at her side in an instant, placing a calming hand on one of her arms, applying gentle pressure to lower it. "Don't."

"She's trying to kill us!" Emma snapped, not taking her eyes off Tamara. "She nearly killed Henry! She's worse than Regina! I'm not just going to stand around and let her keep hurting us!"

Mary Margaret pressed down on her arm again, this time more insistently. "Think about what you're doing. Hurting her won't make anything right, just like hurting Regina won't. You're not that person, Emma. You don't want to go down that path. Trust me."

Emma's eyes flickered to Mary Margaret's at last and her resolution faded. She'd seen the anguish her best friend and mother went through after the death of Cora, so she knew exactly why Mary Margaret was trying to prevent her from killing Tamara. She didn't exactly have the same qualms Mary Margaret did, but she couldn't bear to see the disappointment in her mother's eyes if she hurt Tamara out of anger. She wanted so badly to be the kind of person her mother thought she was. So she lowered her arms, and Mary Margaret smiled.

"Like you said," Mary Margaret said, glancing back at Tamara. "She's powerless without her silly stun gun."

"We'll see about that," and suddenly, there was a gun in Tamara's hand.

The next seconds seemed like they happened in slow motion.

Emma saw the gun, saw the barrel aimed straight for her chest. She had that moment of surreal introspection that she'd only heard about in movies, that split second where you know you're about to die, you know there's no time to stop it, and you kind of just can't believe it.

She heard the bang that crashed in her eardrums and sent birds in the trees flying for cover. She heard the sharp cry of "No!" from Neal. She heard the blood-curdling scream of her mother.

She shut her eyes tight, waiting for it to be over, but there was nothing. No pain, no white light at the end of the tunnel.

With absolute certainty that she _should _be dead, or at the very least in agonizing pain, Emma opened her eyes.

At first, she just didn't understand what she was looking at.

Mary Margaret stood facing her, just inches away. She was clutching her upper-arms in a vice grip and her whole body was rigid. Emma had somehow been pushed slightly to the left, so that her right shoulder rested against Mary Margaret's, and now Mary Margaret was staring at a hold in the tree they were against.

"Mary Margaret?" Emma whimpered. "Mare?"

Mary Margaret's face was a mixture of fear and confusion. With puzzled eyes, she glanced down at herself, her hand rising slowly to touch the middle of her own chest.

That was when Emma saw the blood slowly soaking her best friend's shirt.

"Mary Margaret?" Emma repeated, waiting for her to shake it off and say something like, "Phew! That was close! Too bad I spilled this ketchup all over my favorite shirt!"

But Mary Margaret just looked back up at her and blinked, then her legs buckled and she crumpled to the ground.

Emma's paralysis broke instantly and she reached out to catch her mother before she hit to hard earth. The motion sent her falling as well, and she landed on her knees with Mary Margaret's upper body resting across her lap while she struggled to hold her up.

Warmth filled her palm, and keeping Mary Margaret propped up on her arm, Emma slid her hand that had been pressed against Mary Margaret's back into view, staring with sickening shock at the red that now coated her skin. She felt it pouring out of her best friend, spilling across her lap and into the dirt. The entire front of Mary Margaret's white blouse was scarlet.

Still dazed and in shock, she looked up to see that Neal had gotten the gun from Tamara and was now holding her by the arms around her back, staring at them in horror. Tamara didn't fight, only smiled victoriously.

"Mary Margaret?" Emma said once again, her voice rising and becoming panicked.

"Emma…" she whispered. Her face was pale – no, not fair like always – pale, like death. Her eyes were glassy and Emma could tell she felt no pain. "Emma…"

"It's okay," Emma said, pressing her hands against the bullet wounds front and back, making Mary Margaret cry out in pain, but didn't release the pressure. "You're going to be okay."

Mary Margaret lifted a cold, shaking hand to lightly caress Emma's face. "So perfect. So brave."

"Stop it," Emma demanded, fighting back the tears that were trying to make themselves known. She couldn't give into them now. Not now. "I can heal you, you're going to be fine!"

She pressed her hands against the wounds again, fighting for all she was worth to summon the magic she knew was in there, that Gold said she could control if she only tried. Mary Margaret moaned at the renewed pressure, making Emma falter, but she tried again.

_Please, please just let me do this,_ she cried to God or whoever else could possibly be listening. _I I'm never able to use this damned magic again just PLEASE let me heal her!_

But nothing was happening, no white or purple light shone from her hand. She just didn't know how.

"Emma," Mary Margaret whispered again, her breath coming in shallow, rattling bursts. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry…"

Emma shook her head, hair whipping into her face. "No! No, damn it! I'm going to heal you!"

Mary Margaret moved her hand to weakly grip her daughter's chin, trying to force her to look at her. "My love…It's okay. It's okay."

Emma was hyperventilating to keep from crying. She looked into her mother's dying eyes and could no longer keep the tears at bay. Her hands never left where they were pressed tightly against the wound. "Why would you do that?!" she cried. "Why the hell would you jump in front of me?!"

Mary Margaret gasped something that might have been a laugh. "Why…why would you jump in front…of me…when Cora…"

"Please," Emma interrupted. "Please, Mary Margaret, you can't do this. We need you. David _needs _you, Henry needs you, everyone needs you! I…I need you! You promised you would never leave me again!"

Tears were rolling down Mary Margaret's cheeks and the hand holding Emma's chin was growing colder. "I know. I'm sorry…so sorry…I…" she gasped, a wet, sickening sound. "I love you…Emma…so much. You're…ev'rything I could have wished…" she gasped again and her hand fell from Emma's face.

"Please!" Emma begged, holding her mother close, as if she could transfer her own life into her. "Don't leave me, please, Snow…Mom…I love you…"

A small smile graced Snow White's lips before her eyes fluttered shut and she exhaled for a final time before her body went limp.

"No…nononono…" Emma shook her mother, willing her to wake back up. "NO! NO!"

She screamed then, still applying pressure to the wound, still hoping maybe she can save her mom. But she couldn't. She had fucking magic, but she couldn't save one of three people in the world she loved most.

"What happened?!" David exclaimed, running into the clearing with Hook on his heels. He first took in Neal, a pained look on his face, holding a smirking Tamara, then whipped around to where his daughter was sobbing, clutching his lifeless wife in her arms.

"SNOW!" David cried, stumbling to his knees before her, staring in disbelief at the amount of blood still dripping from her. He held shaking hands in the air, knowing not what to do, but it felt like all the breath was sucked from him. This wasn't a sleeping curse. He knew he couldn't wake her by kissing her.

Emma was looking at him with pleading, anguished eyes. "I'm sorry!" she wailed. "I tried! I tried, Daddy, I'm sorry! I tried to save her!"

Through pain that felt like it would kill him at any moment, David registered that his strong, grown daughter was pleading for forgiveness like a frightened child, repeating over and over that she "tried." He crawled around his True Love to sit on the ground beside Emma, pulling her roughly into his arms, using one hand to help support Snow's head.

Hook was shaking his head. "Of all people…" he muttered. "Had to be that one," he glanced back where Neal was still in shock right at the moment Tamara decided she would make her getaway. Hook was on her immediately, easily pinning her arms back behind her, ignoring her pained cry. "Where do you think _you're _going?"

She chuckled. "Oh, I just thought I'd go, let the family mourn and whatnot. And maybe find that Regina so I can brag that I accomplished what she's tried for like what, fifty years to do?"

Emma heard them talking, heard that monster Tamara laugh at her mother's death.

_My mother's death_.

_Snow White is dead._

Emma opened her eyes, watching her tears land on the pale face of her mother, the best friend she'd ever had, the first person she'd ever met who accepted and loved her for who she is. She never even got to tell her _how much _she loved her.

_Because of Tamara._

_Tamara with the gun._

She'd wanted to kill Tamara, but her mother talked her out of it, so she backed off. She didn't want to disappoint her mom.

And Tamara fired. Fired at _her_.

And her mom took the bullet for her.

"_I'm not used to someone putting me first._"

"_Well, get used to it!_"

Emma raised her eyes, the tears drying on her skin. She focused on Tamara who was smiling at her in sick victory, and everyone else faded from existence.

She stood out of her father's embrace, carefully removed her arms from around her mom, leaving him to hold his wife.

_His wife that he didn't get to say goodbye to._

_Henry's grandmother who didn't get to watch him grow up._

_The future children she'd never gotten to have a second chance at being a mother to._

Emma's body started to shake harder and harder until she was all but convulsing, but she paid no mind. In some part of her brain, she heard her father say her name, a frightened tone to his voice.

She stepped around her mother's body, no longer seeing it. No longer seeing anything but the bitch who took her family from her.

"_I can't lose that. I _cannot_ lose my family!"_

"_Family?"_

Someone was holding the murderer still, so Emma's eyes flicked to him, and he released Tamara, backing away slowly.

Emma was still shaking, but then, so was the ground below her. The earth darkened with black storm clouds that rolled over the clear blue sky. Thunder crashed and lightning illuminated the frightened eyes of the murderer.

"Get the hell away from me," Tamara said, her voice starting to waver, backing away as Emma stepped closer. "What are you doing?!"

Suddenly Tamara was looking away, yelling as rocks, logs, _trees_ started to be pulled from the ground by an invisible force, floating slowly in the air.

Emma felt her own hair lift, and it was like a vacuum was pulling at them all. Something was overtaking her mind, she could no longer form rational thought, but she felt that those who she did _not _want to pay were behind her. She could feel their shocked and frightened stares. She didn't care.

"Stop!" Tamara screamed, and in a fluid motion reached into her boot and produced a long knife which she flung at Emma.

Emma blinked her eyes, and the knife froze in midair, then erupted into flames.

Eyes wide and terrified, Tamara turned to run.

So she wanted to run? Coward.

Emma's hand whipped out in front of her as if by its own volition and Tamara was caught by an invisible cord around her neck.

_She's dead._

_Snow White is dead._

_My mother is dead._

_Tamara killed my mother._

"_You found us…"_

Emma's mouth opened and the scream the burst forth was barely human. Power rippled through the air, splitting trees and boulders. The earth shifted and cracked beneath her, not strong enough to withstand the pulse of energy coursing out of her.

Her hair whipped in wind that wasn't there and the world grew bright.

Her body,

Her eyes,

Her mouth was glowing a blinding white.

She continued to scream without pause or breath. The murderer attempted to cover her ears against the ear-piecing sound.

Emma willed the murderer to rise into the air, turn toward her so she could see. She, the monster who took her mother.

"I'm sorry!" she pleaded. "Please, have mercy!"

But Emma had no mercy left.

Her mother thought she was better than this.

Her mother was dead.

Her hand tightened. Tamara gasped.

The light continued to brighten, and Tamara was glowing as well.

Tamara screamed, an agonizing animal sound.

And then nothing.

* * *

She felt like she was floating. It was peaceful, painless, but also sad. She knew this wasn't where she needed to be. Sure, it was easier here. Nothing hurt, nothing scared. But it was empty, like the void she lived in while under the sleeping curse.

Snow heard her precious daughter's wails, and they mixed with the memory of her baby girl's cries that one and only time she was able to hold her in her arms.

She'd promised Emma she wouldn't leave her again. Not again.

How did she get here? Oh, she remembered. The gun, the split second she was afforded to put her body in front of her baby's, to spare her harm. She didn't regret it, no, she would take a million bullets for Emma. But she wasn't ready to _leave _yet.

Suddenly she felt warmth in her chest. At first it was pleasant, but then it was agonizing. She felt her insides twisting, repairing.

She tried to swim upward, to escape the pain and open her eyes, move…_something_. But she couldn't.

There were new sounds now, a rumbling. She felt like the world was shaking. Charming was beside her. She knew his smell. He was shaking too – sobbing. She heard him cry out to Emma, fearfully at first and with more force. He was screaming at her to stop. Stop what?

There were other voices too, male voices, but they intermingled and she couldn't decipher their words.

There was a woman – Snow knew that voice – Tamara was screaming, pleading for mercy. Mercy from what?

And above it all was an ear-splitting sound that was so angry, so anguished, that it hurt Snow's heart.

She knew she had to open her eyes, NOW.

Her lungs expanded, and she gratefully sucked in air, much like she did when she was awoken by her True Love's kiss. Her eyelids felt like lead, but she forced them to open.

At first she was baffled beyond belief. Charming was holding her, but not looking at her. His eyes were wide and disbelieving.

It was dark, though seconds ago she knew it had been midafternoon. Lighting was crashing and a beam of blinding white light was before her.

Snow turned her head and squinted in the light, but through it she could see…Emma!

All at once the picture made sense. Emma was holding Tamara magically above the ground and the latter was flailing helplessly, crying out in agony.

Pure, unadulterated magic was flowing from Emma uncontrolled. She was shrieking in a way that sent chills right through Snow.

Rumplestiltskin had said that Emma was more powerful than anyone knew.

He was right.

"EMMA!" she yelled and felt her husband jump before he accidentally dropped her and she landed with a grunt on the hard ground.

"SNOW?!" he exclaimed, looking at her like he couldn't believe she was real.

But Snow couldn't pay attention to him then, her daughter needed her. "Emma stop!" she cried.

But it was no use, Emma didn't seem to hear them. Her shaking fingers were tightening, and Tamara's skin was glowing – burning.

Tamara's screams grew louder and more chilling, and it was like her body was cracking, her skin splitting.

Snow wanted to turn away, close her eyes, but couldn't.

With one final scream from both women, Tamara erupted, her body evaporating until it was nothing but dust that fluttered to the ground.

In an instant, the light, the shuddering, the power was gone.

The storm clouds cleared, the earth settled.

And Emma collapsed to the ground.

"Emma!" Snow cried, crawling to her feet and ignoring the pain and exhaustion she felt.

She fell beside Emma, lifting her head just the way her daughter had done for her but moments ago and cradled her.

David was beside her at once looking over Emma with confused, frantic eyes then placing a panicked hand to Snow's chest where the bullet wound should have been.

"She healed me," Snow said, not taking her eyes off her daughter. "She must have been healing me and just didn't realize it."

Emma was breathing steadily, her expression peaceful as if merely asleep.

"Is she okay?" David whispered, and Snow though he looked ready to keel over himself.

"I…I don't know," Snow admitted.

"What happened? What the hell _was _that?"

Snow brushed the golden hair from her daughter's face. "Her magic. The only time I saw anything remotely close to that was when Cora tried to take her heart. This…this was something else entirely though."

"M…magic use like that is dangerous…" Neal said, his voice trembling as he stared at the pile of ash that was once his fiancé. "My father used to be exhausted after using it until he got used to it. She…she could have killed herself."

"I don't think she could control herself," Hook murmured. "We should move. You don't want her awakening to _that_," he gestured to the remains of Tamara.

For once the pirate was right, and Snow nodded to Charming to pick their daughter up, which he did instantly.

He cradled her in his arms, much like he did all those years ago, and pressed a grateful kiss to her head.

"David…" Emma murmured groggily, cracking her eyes open.

"I'm here," David crooned.

"Emma…" Snow laid a hand on Emma's forehead and her child's eyes flew open.

"Am I dead?"

Despite herself, Snow chuckled. "No, Love, you saved me. You did it, sweetheart."

Emma's eyes were fluttering shut again, but she was trying to keep them open, trying to see her. "Mom?"

"I'm right here, Emma, go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

"I love you."

"I love you too, Emma, now close your eyes."

She did, unhesitatingly curling up to Charming's chest like a child, and Snow leaned up to kiss her cheek.

"What do we tell her when she awakens?" David asked.

"The truth," Snow said sadly. "We can't lie to her about this. It's going to be hard for her to accept. But we'll be there for her, we won't let her go through this alone."

Snow started to follow alongside David, but paused when she saw Neal still staring at the ashes.

"Neal…Emma, she…"

He shook his head. "It's not Emma's fault. Tamara brought this on herself."

"Do you need a moment?"

Neal looked up at her and shook his head again. "No, let's just go and take care of Emma. We should get her home, to my father. As much as I hate to say it, I think she needs his help to learn how to control this."

Snow nodded in agreement and clutched her daughter's hand as they carried her away from the destroyed clearing.

And none of them looked back.

* * *

**Did you honestly think I'd kill Snow? Please. ;) It's probably no secret though that I hate Tamara. Mwahaha! Let me know what you think, good or bad. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, I was NOT expecting that kind of response to Powerful! I honestly didn't think it'd go over well, but now I'm thrilled that it did! Due to popular demand, I decided to delve into this more with some of the aftermath. I actually semi-predict that something like this may happen on the show. There's been so much build up but not a lot of showcase of Emma's magic, and with all the stress and everything going on I really feel like it's going to come to boiling point soon and when it does, I think it'll be huge. But that's just me. **

**At any rate, thanks so much for the awesome reviews! They meant a lot. Here is David's reaction to what happened:**

* * *

Though both Neal and Hook offered intermediately to carry the still unconscious Emma, David waved them off, claiming that he didn't need the help.

In truth his arms were aching after 45 minutes of traversing the thick jungle and he stumbled more than once on pesky roots that seemed to want to reach up to grab him. Emma was a slip of a thing, but tall and well-muscled, so she was heavier than she looked. But he refused to show it, and not out of some silly masculine pride like he suspected the other two men thought, but because he couldn't bear to put her down now. _Especially_ not into the arms of _those _two.

He was shaken to say the least. The things he'd seen in the span of ten minutes frightened him more than anything had in his entire life. Dragons, curses, and wraiths included.

In a matter of seconds he'd gone from walking along side Hook, gritting his teeth against the crude pirate's ramblings when an agonizing pain stabbed at his chest, nearly making him double over, to holding his dead wife in his arms and watching his daughter become a creature possessed, effortlessly reducing another human being to dust.

_His wife had _died.

He couldn't stop himself from glancing at her every chance he got. He tried to keep her walking in front of him, so he could _see _her, see that she was _walking _and fine and _alive_.

They'd had close calls before, more than any two people should, hell he'd actually believed her DEAD once before!

But somehow that had been different. He'd been devastated, distraught, mourned the loss of the love that they _could _have had. He'd seen her sweet, peaceful form, as if only asleep, and pressed a gentle kiss to her cold lips to tell her goodbye.

This time, she was his _wife_, they'd had a life together, a _child_. He could no longer imagine life without her. She was his everything. And when he'd come upon them, she was lying in a pool of her own blood, their daughter crying brokenly over her.

He shuddered. It was an image he could never, would never forget. No matter how much he wished to. He still felt his True Love's drying blood sticking to his torso where Emma was resting. She herself was covered from head to toe. Even her light hair was matted with it. The gruesome sight combined with the sickly sweet smell turned his stomach.

He looked to his side again, where Snow was keeping a slow pace with him, her hand gently touching Emma's head as if she just _had_ to be in contact with her somehow. He understood. He felt the same.

He shuddered again when he took in the amount of blood covering _Snow_. Her formally white blouse was stiff with it. It trailed down her pants and covered her shoes. He also noted how incredibly _pale _she still was.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly, a little breathlessly.

Snow nodded absently, not looking at him.

"It isn't much further. There's a good clearing near the stream up ahead. It's the best place to rest."

Snow nodded again.

Suddenly he wondered if maybe he _should_ let Neal or Hook take Emma so that he could carry Snow. But he shook if off. He knew her well enough that she wouldn't allow it. He knew magic had healed her, but how much he didn't know. Nor did he have any clue how she was still walking with the amount of blood lost.

"Maybe we should stop and…"

"I'm fine."

But she wasn't, he could well see that. She was refusing to speak so not to spend any more energy than necessary. He noticed Hook walking a little closer to her than normal, which would usually bother him except the pirate looked like he was watching Snow from the corner of his eye, to maybe catch her should she fall, so he said nothing.

Neal was off in his own little world that David cared nothing about, but Hook was unusually quiet, and he realized with grudging appreciation that he actually appeared concerned for the two women.

Emma sighed in her sleep and shifted slightly, burying her cold nose against his neck. He melted at the contact, and his resolve to keep carrying her renewed. As much as he loved and worried about his wife, he agreed with her that right now Emma needed to come first. Besides, he knew he would probably never be permitted to hold her again, so he allowed a touch of selfishness and indulged his inner "dad."

When Snow told him what happened when Cora tried to steal Emma's heart, he honestly had a hard time believing it. Not that he doubted his wife, he just couldn't imagine how _their_ daughter could just naturally have magic. Everything he'd ever known and learned about magic and those who practiced it told him that it's not something you're born with, that you have to learn, though some people may be more inclined to accomplish it than others, like any talent. Even the fairies needed dust and wands to be able to use it. The all-powerful Rumplestiltskin sold his soul to have it. How was it possible that Emma was just…magic?

And then he'd seen a snippet of what she could do with that dream catcher, knew that she had been able to use a protection spell on Gold's shop. But those were both times when Gold was instructing her.

This…this was something unlike anything he'd ever seen, heard or read about.

He could actually _feel_ the anger radiating off his daughter. The power. He knew that if she had wanted to, she could have destroyed the entire island. Hell, he now didn't doubt that she could bring down an entire world.

It was terrifying, yet morbidly beautiful.

He didn't fear his daughter, no. Even in the midst of all the destruction when trees were ripped from their roots and massive boulders were split, when a crater the size of a bus was made beneath her feet, when she didn't seem to hear or see or think anything but the death of Tamara, not of one those who watched were harmed in any way.

Even the debris that whipped through the air flew around them harmlessly. Even in the throes of…whatever possessed her, she could never harm those she cared about.

She was a protector.

From the first time he met her as David Nolan, he could see that. She protected Mary Margaret from him, from Regina, from anything she could with fierce loyalty. Her fierceness with Henry was even stronger. He'd always respected that about her, even when it meant she was glaring at him and threatening him to stay away from her friend.

She even protected Regina, when he didn't think she deserved it. She protected Gold. She protected everyone who needed her.

And when she woke up, she was going to be faced with the fact that she had magic capable of total destruction. She was going to be faced with the fact that she lost control and killed Tamara, though he didn't think a soul would blame her.

Though his arms were heavy, David lifted his baby girl up higher so that she was more comfortably nestled on his shoulder. He was making up for all those years he should have been there to comfort her when she was hurt or scared, when he should have been there to carry her when she was tired.

Emma Swan protected those who needed her, but now, she was the one who was in need.

And David was going to protect her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank so much for the continued reviews! Sorry I haven't had time for many responses. Boring ol' life and whatnot. This one gets pretty angsty here. I'm not really used to writing angst, though I'll admit it's an interesting change for me, so let me know what you think!**

* * *

She was in the quiet, foggy realm between sleep and wakefulness. When you can feel the world around you with growing awareness but you aren't quite ready to release the dreamworld you're leaving.

Emma didn't want to let go of the dream, because in her dream her mother was alive.

She wasn't entirely clear on why she was so tired, why her limbs felt like lead, why her stomach was unsettled or why her head felt near to bursting. Through short flashes of consciousness she knew she'd been carried. A part of her was appalled by the idea, but she just couldn't find it in herself to care. But she didn't know how much else was real because she could have sworn she heard her voice, felt a warm kiss on her cheek.

But that was impossible.

Pain, unbearable, all-encompassing, crushing pain ripped through her, leaving her breathless. Not even when she believed Henry had died had she felt this suffocating agony of loss, because she'd barely had time to understand that he was gone before her kiss revived him.

A kiss could cure someone of a poisoned apple, but not a bullet to the heart.

What made it all worse was if Emma knew how to use her innate magic, there was a possibility she could have _saved _her.

She didn't know what she was going to do. In the span of little over a year she'd come to rely so heavily on the woman that now that she was gone…Emma was truly lost. More lost than she'd ever really been in her whole lonely life.

The friendship, the understanding, the warm, inviting smile and an offer of hot chocolate, were all gone. The best friend who would stay up late just to talk to her, who was on her side no matter what, who kept her secrets, who listened without judging, who saw the good in her despite her messed up past, was gone.

And so was the mother she had only just begun to forge a relationship with. Who even though she barely knew her, loved her unconditionally and without reserve.

Emma squeezed her eyes tighter shut, unwilling to wake up to a world without Mary Margaret – without Snow White – in it.

Every time she'd had an opportunity to tell her that she loved her ran through Emma's mind like wildfire. Even the times when she should have just _thanked _her or voiced appreciation for the things she did. Mundane things like laundry, and making dinner, and cleaning up her damned room because she fell exhaustedly into bed each night after a long day at the station and complained the day before that she couldn't find her stuff.

The woman was a mother long before either of them knew it. Regardless of the fact that she was scarcely Emma's age.

And she thought about since learning the truth…all the times Emma pushed her away, refused to talk about her own past, shied away from words of endearment…all the times when calling her "Mom" no matter how awkward it would have been, would have absolutely made Mary Margaret's day because it was the one word she longed to hear and shouldn't have had to wait 28 years to hear it. Emma knew. She knew the moment _Henry _called _her _Mom.

Henry. How was she going to tell him? How could she tell him that she'd let his grandmother, that she let _Snow White_ die?

Emma moaned, and curled in on herself, feeling hot tears roll down her face. She couldn't breathe. It was like the pain was crushing her.

A warm hand on her forehead and a soothing voice made her flinch violently. She recoiled from it, because it reminded her of the cruel dream that Mary Margaret stood before her, smiling despite the blood covering her body, looking at her in that way that no one else had in her entire life. Like she was everything.

Something cool and wet touched her face and she flinched again, this time in surprise. It was gently scrubbing at her skin.

Finally the waking world could be ignored no longer, and Emma slowly dragged her eyes open. They felt like they were full of sand.

When her vision focused she moaned again, because clearly she wasn't fully awake yet, and this was just her brain trying to torment her and drive her crazy by showing her the one person she wanted to see, who she would never see again.

"Shh…it's okay sweetheart, lay still."

Emma shut her eyes and couldn't restrain a pitiful sob. Maybe she really had lost her mind.

All at once her head and shoulders were being lifted and pulled into a tight embrace and she blinked in confusion.

"Don't cry, Emma, I'm here."

When she opened her eyes again she found herself being cradled as best as one could cradle someone their own size. Mary Margaret looked down at her with tear-filled, loving eyes and stroked the side of her face. "I'm here," she whispered. "I'm here."

"N…no…" Emma muttered, though she'd never wanted more desperately to believe something in her life. She couldn't help but be reminded of the moment she realized she secretly _did_ wish her mother was Mary Margaret. "Can't…"

Mary Margaret let out a humorless chuckle. "Believe it, Emma. You did it, sweetheart, you saved me."

"But…I couldn't…" she whimpered, hearing that she sounded very, very young and very, very hurt. "I tried…but I failed."

Mary Margaret shook her head. "You didn't fail. You healed me, Emma, I'm alive. I'm okay."

For some reason it wasn't her face hovering inches from her own, nor the reassuring sound of her voice, not even the hand that was softly stoking her hair that convinced Emma. It was the tears that fell and landed on Emma's face that made her jolt into awareness and into a sitting position. "Y…you…"

This time, her laugh was joyful. "I'm okay, Emma. I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

Emma's saucer eyes glanced to the left where David was watching them silently from beside a campfire a short ways away. He was smiling reassuringly while Neal and Hook were making shows of not looking at all.

She looked back at her mother, and without another second's hesitation, because who knew if she'd ever have another second to spend, launched herself into her arms, holding her so tight she might have been hurting her, but Mary Margaret only wrapped her arms around Emma in turn and squeezed just as tight.

Tear flowed unchecked down Emma's face. "Mom…" she whispered.

"I love you, Emma."

"I love you, too," Emma cried. "I thought I'd lost you."

Mary Margaret pulled back, brushing away Emma's tears with her thumb in a way that Emma was becoming accustomed to. "Didn't I tell you that we'd never lose each other again? Believe me, Emma, you're not getting rid of me that easily. One bonus that curse afforded us was that we can all grow very old together so not even age can tear me away for a very. Long. Time!"

Emma had to laugh at that, but the sound turned into a wheeze and suddenly her unsettled stomach heaved and she was scrambling away from her mother to retch into the bushes, her body shuddering violently.

"Emma?!" Mary Margaret's voice was high pitched with worry. "David!"

Emma felt her hair lift away from her face and neck while a hand rubbed soothing circles on her back. There wasn't much in her stomach to lose, but that didn't seem to matter.

When the attack was finally over, she could no longer bear her own weight and very nearly would have plunged into her own vomit had a pair of strong arm not lifted her up and into his arms like a baby.

"Emma…Emma…are you okay? Talk to me, please!"

Emma realized that Mary Margaret had been repeating her name over and over, crying worriedly.

"M' okay…" she mumbled, too tired to talk but unwilling to worry her mom too much. She was as limp as a ragdoll when David gently lowered her back to the ground.

"I think she'll be okay," Neal said, and Emma groaned when she realized he and Hook were hovering over her also. "This happened to my father, too. When he turned this man into a snail he threw up all night. She just…just needs to lie still, I think."

"You _think_?" Emma flinched at the unusually sharp tone of her mother.

"I don't know, okay?!" Neal was aggravated, though not at Mary Margaret Emma suspected. "Whatever…_that_ was…it was a lot more than turning someone into a snail! I honestly don't know if he's ever gone through anything like that so I don't know the level of effect!"

Emma opened her eyes, forcing herself to stay awake and alert, and gratefully accepting a pouch of water from David. "What are you talking about?" she croaked, narrowing her eyes at Neal. "What…_that_ was. What do you mean? Why am I sick?"

"Don't worry about it, Emma," Mary Margaret said, trying to get her to lean back against what she realized was David's jacket. She glanced at him, thinking he must be cold, but figured she'd pick her battles for now.

"Too late, what are you all talking about? Am I dying or something?" she'd meant it to be sarcastic, but didn't like the way everyone paled.

"Of course not!" Mary Margaret hissed. "You…you used your magic to heal me, Emma, you're not used to that and Neal says that it can make you sick. You'll be fine, you just need to rest."

"There's something you're not telling me," it wasn't a question. Maybe her superpower wasn't always so reliable, but she knew for sure that they weren't being 100% honest.

"We'll talk when you're better," David said. "I promise."

Pacified, Emma relaxed, and her eyes were growing heavy again from all the effort.

Mary Margaret sat beside her, her knees drawn up to her chest. Emma saw the blood caking her clothes, though it looked as if she'd tried her best to wash some of it off. It made her heart lurch.

"You'll be here when I wake up?" she hadn't meant it to sound so helpless and childlike, but in her exhausted state she couldn't help it. She just needed to know that next time she opened her eyes, her mom would be beside her and it wouldn't have all been another cruel dream.

"Of course," Mary Margaret whispered. "I won't leave your side. I promise. I'll be right here when you wake up."

Even still Emma couldn't close her eyes until she rolled over and clutched Mary Margaret's hand, needing the contact to assure her that she was there. After a moment she felt Mary Margaret shift, then lay down beside her close enough that Emma could hear her breath.

Only then could she sleep.


End file.
